


Not Ours To Have

by premivmtrash



Series: Don't Let Me Be Lonely [1]
Category: Sand Castle (2017)
Genre: (as in other characters), Alcohol, Developing Relationship, During Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, found this buried in my drafts, implied trauma, right after they come back from that last mission, some light swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 16:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21018443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/premivmtrash/pseuds/premivmtrash
Summary: The last mission went so horribly wrong, his squad members were so terribly hurt, and now Matt is supposed to just go home, pat himself on the shoulder, and move on? How was he supposed to leave all of this behind like this - this mission, this war, his friend?[Can be read as a prologue to "Late Night Call"]





	Not Ours To Have

“Just don’t be like that. It’s not gonna be like that.”

Harper’s voice barely reached Matt. All he could hear was the beating of his heart and the rushing of his blood; the image of Enzo and Burton covered in blood burning in his head. And he saw the captured men kneeling before him, and, God, he wanted to make them pay, he wanted them to feel the pain he felt, wanted to let out his frustration, his anger, his grief.

But Harper was holding him back. Matt could distantly feel his arms around him, could feel him making sure he wasn’t getting back up. For a second, he wanted to fight him. Why was he not fighting with him? Why was he still protecting these guys?   
He wanted to fight Harper. He wanted to fight him, but instead he found himself clutching onto his arms, sinking into him, letting him hold him.

Matt didn’t really register how long they stayed like that, when the other guys left, or how Harper dragged him to their room. He couldn’t say if his Sergeant had put him into his bed or if he got in it himself. And he wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or if Harper actually sat down on the corner of Matt’s mattress and gently placed his hand on Matt’s back, drawing small circles until he drifted away into a dreamless sleep.

\---

When Matt woke up, he found himself alone in the small room. It was still pitch-black outside, so he couldn’t have been out for long. The complete silence coming from the other beds, the lack of deep breathes or ever-so-slight movements only worsened the painful hammering in Matt’s head. He couldn’t stay here.

With every movement he made, the soreness in his body reminded him of the events that took place just a few hours ago, but he tried to push the thoughts away. Stepping into the dark hallway, Matt considered where to go next. He needed to get outside, but if he would go downstairs, chances were high to run into one of Syverson’s men and he really didn’t want to see any of them now. Trying to come up with alternatives, Matt decided that the roof would be the best option. 

The sound of his steps on the stone stair softly echoed from the dim walls as he walked up. Once he reached the rooftop door and stepped outside, a breeze of cold air hit him. Thankful for the cold sting in his lungs, he took a deep breath in, reminding him that he was alive. He closed his eyes and stood still for a moment.

“Ocre?”

Matt flinched at the sudden sound of the hoarse, yet soft voice. Searching for the source of it, he saw Harper leaning against the small wall at the edge of the rooftop, looking back at him. Matt cleared his throat.

“I just… I needed to--”, Matt started, but didn’t know how to finish.

But Harper just nodded.

“Yeah. Me, too.”

For a moment, they both remained still and silence fell between them, before Matt decided to walk over to Harper and sit down next to him. They both knew that they were sitting closer than they normally would, but neither of them minded feeling the other’s warmth and familiarity. 

“You’re gonna be okay.”

Harper broke the silence. When Matt looked up, his eyes met Harper’s. 

“You’re gonna be okay, Matt.”

In Harper’s eyes Matt found a deep sense of understanding. He found empathy and compassion. And companionship, friendship, maybe even… No. Now he was definitely reading too much into it, because his emotions were all over the place. Companionship. Nothing more.

At some point Harper broke eye contact and for a second Matt felt robbed. But then he felt James slowly reaching for his hand. He felt the other’s rough, warm fingers gently touching the back of his hand and he felt himself opening his palm, so that Harper could take Matt’s hand with his own.

No words were exchanged, no looks shared, they just held onto each other, finding comfort, finding security in the other.

\---

_ It wasn’t ours to have. I have nothing to feel guilty about. _

Matt was repeating Harper’s words in his head, trying to believe them, as he was lying awake in the dark. He had no idea how he was supposed to go back to the States and just continue his life as if none of this had ever happened, as if everything was okay. 

A muffled sigh coming from the other bed in the room made him aware that his Staff Sergeant must be awake too. Matt looked over at Harper’s dark figure, which seemed to be turning around in his bed until they were facing each other. Just like the night before, Matt was trying to find comfort in James’ eyes, but this time in the dark he couldn’t. Instead, he was left wondering what the other man was feeling. He knew, however, what he would say, if Matt were to let out his frustration again.

_ It wasn’t ours to have. _

Shuffling around, Harper sat up in his bed. He rubbed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. 

“You gotta let it go, Ocre.”

He looked at his hands, silent for a second.

“You can’t stay awake all night, asking yourself what could have happened. You gotta let it go.”

“Sergeant, you’re awake, too.”

A short moment of silence fell between them, before Matt could hear Harper lightly chuckle. 

“Yeah, well, you got me there.”

A dim light illuminated the room as Harper flicked on the small lamp on his makeshift bedside table. Well, good thing at least this place was deemed safe enough for them to do that, thought Matt bitterly and sat up in his bed too. Now able to see, Harper got up, stepped over to his bag, and began searching through it. A short reflection appeared and upon turning around his Sergeant presented a half-full bottle of booze. Matt raised his eyebrows.

“Since when is that your style?”

“I mean,” Harper walked back over to his bed and sat down. “If you don’t want any, that’s fine with me.”

He took a sip from the bottle and Matt sighed.

“Ah, fuck it, it’s all a fucking mess anyway.”

Matt got up, took the few steps over to the other bed and let himself fall next to Harper. He took the bottle out of the offering hand and downed a gulp. In the back of his head he noticed that his knee was touching Harper’s, but he pushed that thought away.   
Silence fell over them once again, only interrupted when one of them reached for the bottle and drank a bit.

They both had worked up a slight buzz, when Matt found himself longingly staring at James’ hand. He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help but crave feeling his closeness, his warmth, his beating heart -- any reminder that Harper was alive and that so was he.

But he shouldn’t. It was out of line to wish for these things, at least from Harper, from his Staff Sergeant in the freaking Army. He couldn’t ask, he couldn’t tell, he had to drown out the knocking desire in the back of his head. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t even about Harper, that he was simply longing for any human connection. The thought that he never had the same kind of bond with anyone else as he had with Harper stung in his heart, but he pushed it away, shut it out. At least, he told himself that he did.

Next to him, Harper groaned and rubbed his eyes. Stretching lightly, before leaning back and stabilizing himself with his hands, he looked at the lamp, which tinted the room in a dim light. His expression wasn’t decipherable, but Matt could feel that there were a mass of thoughts running through his mind. 

“Listen, I have an idea,” he was slurring slightly, but speaking ever so softly. “Once I get back to the States, I’m gonna come and check up on you.”

He turned to look at Matt, who opened his mouth in an attempt to protest.

“No, no, listen, Ocre. I’m gonna come and make sure you’re okay if you want it or not, okay?” 

He paused again, letting out a deep breath, turning to watch the lamp again. 

Quietly he added, “and maybe you can make sure I don’t lose my mind either.”

Unsure what to say, Matt look at Harper, really looked at him, taking it all in - the ruffled hair, the dark circle under his eyes, the sun-tanned skin, which still seemed to have a thin layer of dust and sand on it. He looked at Harper’s soft lips, at the way his nose curved, his eyes seeming to search for something in the light. He looked and looked and looked and he could have looked forever, could have gotten completely lost in him, let himself entirely fall. But he didn't. He couldn’t.

\---

“I’ll see you on the other side.”

Matt tried to frame the picture of Harper in his head, turning it into a memory, preserving it, as he stepped onto the plane that was supposed to take him home.

_ Home _. He couldn’t believe it. He had wished for getting to go home for so long when he had been first shipped out. Hell, he had broken his own freaking hand in a desperate attempt to get on one of the same planes as he was on now, to fly home, cash in his college money, and live happily ever after.

But now, now that he was actually on his way back to the States, it all felt so far away. He didn’t want to go. It felt like he had failed. Failed his mission, his squad, his Sergeant. 

_ Home. _ Flying to the States didn’t feel like going home. It felt as if he had left the only thing he could really call home the second he had said goodbye to Harper, the second he had walked away from him. 

He knew it wasn’t his fault. Afterall, it hadn’t been his decision to leave. But still, he was wondering if he could have done more. And he was wondering - well, he was wondering what the point of the entire thing had been. The death, the sacrifice, the losses, _ the war. _ It didn’t feel as if they had amounted to anything, as if they had changed anything. He knew the news reports by now, afterall. No weapons of mass destruction were found anywhere, rendering the original justification for their invasion meaningless. _ Operation Iraqi Freedom. _ Matt couldn’t help but ask himself who they supposedly had brought freedom, who they were supposed to have helped. Surely not the people in Baqubah. All they had left there was a bombed water system and not a single drop of hope. 

**  
**_ Home_.


End file.
